bidden foorth to supper, you shall be my guest, onelye I will crave so much favour, as after supper for a pleasant sporte, to make relation what successe you have had in your loves. For that I will not sticke, quoth he, and so he conveyed Lionello to his mother-in-lawe's house with him, and discovered to his wive's brethren who he was, and how at supper he would disclose the whole matter; For, quoth he, he knowes not that I am Margaret's husband. At this all the brethren bad him welcome, and so did the mother to, and Margaret, she was kept out of sight. Supper time being come they fell to their victals, and Lionello was carrowst unto by Mutio, who was very pleasant, to drawe him into a merry humor, that he might to the ful discourse the effect and fortunes of his love. Supper being ended, Mutio requested him to tel to the gentlemen what had hapned between him and his mistresse. Lionello, with a smiling countenance, began to describe his mistresse, the house and street where she dwelt, how he fell in love with her, and how he used the councell of this doctor, who in all his affaires was his secretarye. Margaret heard all this with a great feare, and when he came to the last point, she caused a cup of wine to be given him by one of her sisters, wherein was a ring that he had given Margaret. As he had told how he had escapt burning, and was ready to confirme all for a troth, the gentlewoman drunke to him, who taking the cup and seeing the ring, having a quick wit and a reaching head, spide the fetch, and perceived that all this while this was his lover's husband to whome hee had revealed these escapes; at this drinking the wine, and swallowing the ring into his mouth, he went forward.

Gentlemen, quoth he, how like you of my loves and my fortunes? Wel, quoth the gentlemen. I pray you is it true? As true, quoth he, as if I would be so simple as to reveal what I did to Margaret's husband; for know you, gentlemen, that I knew this Mutio to be her husband whom I notified to be my lover; and for that he was generally known through Pisa to be a jealous fool, therefore, with these tales I brought him into

this paradice, which indeed are follies of mine own braine; for trust me, by the faith of a gentleman, I never spake to the woman, was never in her companye, neyther doo I know her if I see her. At this they all fell in a laughing at Mutio, who was ashamde that Lionello had so scoft him. But all was well; they were made friends; but the jest went so to his hart that he shortly after died, and Lionello enjoyed the ladye; and for that they two were the death of the old man, now are they plagued in purgatory, and he whips them with nettles.

Assoone as I had passed over these two of Pisa, I looked about and saw many more, as mad and pleasant as the rest: but my time was come that I must to the judge to be censured what punishment I should have for myself for al the mad wanton tricks that I did when I was alive. Faith, and because they knew I was a boone companion, they appointed that I should sit and play jigs al day on my tabor to the ghosts without cesing, which hath brought me into such use, that I now play far better than when I was alive; for proof thou shalt hear a hornpipe; with that, putting his pipe to his mouth, the first stroke he struck I started, and with that I waked, and saw such concourse of people through the fields, that I knew the play was doon; wherupon, rising up, and smiling at my dream, after supper took my pen, and as neer as I could set it down, but not halfe so plesantly as he spoke it; but, howsoever, take it in good part, and so farewell.

FINIS.

APPENDIX.

No. 1.

[Extracts from "The Cobler of Canterburie," an answer to, or rather, as the title-page has it, an invective against "The News out of Purgatorie." The edition here used is that of 1608; only one copy of which being known to exist, I have followed the original more minutely than usual, retaining the u and v in their old-fashioned places, a method I have not adopted in the other tracts, and perhaps hardly necessary in the present instance.]

The Cobler of Canterburie. Or An inuective against Tarltons Newes out of Purgatorie. A merrier Iest then a Clownes Tigge, and fitter for Gentlemens humors. Published with the cost of a Dickar of Cowhides. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes for Nathaniel Butter, and are to be sold at the signe of the pide Bull neere to Saint Austins gate. 1608. (Sm. 4to.)

The Coblers Epistle to the Gentlemen Readers.

A Hall, a Hall, Gentlemen: roome for a Cobler, here comes the quaintest Squire in all Kent; The Cobler of Canterburie, armed with his Aull, his Lingell, and his Last, presents himselfe a iudiciall Censor of other mens writings: but me thinks for my sawcinesse, I hear Apelles boy crying, Ne Sutor vltra crepidam. If I do see his maister mend the fault in the legge, Ile abide their frumpes, and when he hath done, Ile say, this had not been corrected but for the Cobler. Becomes not many a Tinkar a tall Pratler? and haue not men of my trade waded so deepe in the secrets of Theologie that they haue sought to correct Magnificat?

and then (by your leaue Gentlemē) may not the Cobler of Kent, who hath beene the patron of many good companions, and tost ouer a paire of cards at Trump' from morning till night, not to be admitted so far as to find fault with Richard Tarltons Newes out of Purgatorie? Yes; and if he that writ it will not amed the latchet, Ile on with my night-cap and my spectacles, and make him shape the legge righter ere I haue done.

I confesse tis a Booke, and so is the Colliers Iade of Croydon a horse, as well as the Courtiers Courser; yet by my faith it hath a faire Title: but if Diogenes saw it he would cry out as he did against Minda, stop your cittie that it runne not out of the gates; and inferre a like inuectiue against the Book, for that the title containes more then the whole Pamphlet: but yet in faith there is prettie stuffe in it, but vnworthie Dick Tarltons humor: somewhere too low for iests, somwhere too high for stile: if I distinguish like a scholler, Gentlemen thinke that I was borne when the Popes butterflies were abroade; and it may be some Frier was my father, and the rather I gesse it; for that nature hath wrought that vpon my crowne, that he had on his, by Art: for before I was twentie I had a bald pate. Well howsoeuer, I haue found fault, and therefore I haue attempted to amend it, not in the correcting of his worke, but in setting out one more pleasant, and more full of delightfull tales for all mens humours;2 except those which are so humorous that they count nothing gratious; but that is too graue. What? a dog hath a day: Semel in anno ridet Apollo. Longer liues a merry man then a sad; a Cobler hath lesse cares then a King; and an houre past in honest mirth, is worth a tunne full of melancholy. Why were Tauernes inuented, but to ripen mens wits? And why were tales deuised but to make men pleasant? Tush, when Redde rationem comes, I feare me there will be lesse account to be giuen for honest recreation, then either for the enuious practises that solemne Saturnists ruminate: or for the sundrie schismes the melancholy michers3 do publish. If my principles be false, let no man

1 See note, p. 82.

2 Notwithstanding this egotistical opinion, the "News out of Purgatory" is altogether a far more amusing work, and better written than the "Cobler of Canterburie."

3 A truant one, who acts by stealth.

See Nares, in v.